


Hunter's Moon

by pressforward



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, M/M, This is mainly an excuse for as many shenanigans as possible, Trans!kurapika, paranormal romance au, trans!leorio, vampire!Leorio, werewolf!Kurapika
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:21:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27960701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pressforward/pseuds/pressforward
Summary: Kurapika readies the bat again, and snarls,“Get out of my house.”He’s prepared for many things—to be rushed, to be knocked over, to have the intruder flee—but what he’s not prepared for is for the intruder to abruptly haul backwards as though he’s been thrown, then to keep going as he tumbles down every single one of the stairs and flings himself out the still-open front door.Well, that’s… novel.A loose collection of shorts from Tumblr, featuring Leorio the vampire med student (and occasional home invader) and Kurapika, the werewolf (and secret vampire hunter).There's No Way This Could Possibly Go Wrong.
Relationships: Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight
Comments: 14
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Largely a writing exercise and a chance to have some fun! I affectionately refer to this as the 'What We Do in the Shadows' au, which is about how seriously I'm taking it (very seriously, comedy is a stern and unflinching business).
> 
> Updates sporadic.

A bump in the night isn’t normally a problem. The problem is that this a bump in the night is after his latest hunt, and the prey had put up a bit of a fight.

Kurapika is upright before he fully registers the noise, wincing, one hand going to his side. The cut there hasn’t closed yet, is still bleeding sluggishly, but he’s lived through worse and fully intends to live through this as well. None of the usual suspects would be so careless as to make noise, so he foregoes the steel, reaches instead for the baseball bat (though not without a brace of knives tucked into the small of his back), and creeps for the doorway.

There’s another scuffle, and a slight aggrieved hiss, and Kurapika’s eyes narrow, then shift. Still late enough for the nightvision to kick into effect, but he hardly needs it.

Someone or something is coming up the stairs, treading lightly. Kurapika checks his radius, then swings.

There’s a yelp, and the bat cracks into the far wall of the hallway, Kurapika immediately shifting from nightvision and shutting his eyes just before flicking the lights on and opening them again. The miscreant is tall and clearly blinded by the sudden light, one arm thrown over his eyes. Kurapika doesn’t recognize him.

“Who sent you?” he demands, which might show his hand a little too clearly, but he’s groggy and alarmed, and honestly, if it is a problem, he’s going to make sure it’s someone else’s.

“Wha—” the stranger starts, which is all he needs to know.

He readies the bat again, and snarls, _“Get out of my house.”_

He’s prepared for many things—to be rushed, to be knocked over, to have the intruder flee—but what he’s not prepared for is for the intruder to abruptly haul backwards as though he’s been thrown, then to keep going as he tumbles down every single one of the stairs and flings himself out the still-open front door.

Well, that’s… novel.

Kurapika proceeds down the stairs, rubbing the last of the sleep from his eyes, bat still at the ready. He stops well out of reach of his front door, squinting out into the night.

He doesn’t have to squint far. His home invader is squatting on his stoop, significantly more ruffled and intensely disapproving, which is rich, considering their positions.

“You’re bleeding,” he says, and Kurapika stares at him. Tall, suited but with rakishly spiked hair, balanced features, and very. Prominent. Canines.

“You’re a vampire,” Kurapika says, and reaches for his knives.

“Whoa, whoa whoa whoa wait, okay, let’s not stereotype here,” the vampire says, holding out his hands, accent strange and unplaceable. “Let me help you out. I’m a med student, we’re learning stitches, you’re bleeding… kind of a lot.”

“Haven’t heard that one before,” Kurapika says, but the vampire’s body language is not hostile. Guarded, certainly, but currently not a threat. He readjusts his grip on the bat regardless. “And you broke into my home.”

“Your front door was open! I’m a nice guy, I wouldn’t’ve eaten you all the way! Honestly, you should be thanking me. There could be a lot worse. And that was before I knew you were bleeding already.”

“Why, looking for a full meal and not a snack,” Kurapika says drily.

The vampire sniffs disdainfully. “I like to eat healthy.”

Despite himself, Kurapika laughs, then winces.

“Seriously, let me give you a hand.”

“So you can prove yourself a liar? No, thank you. I should put you to rest right now.”

“Oh sure, you can try,” the vampire retorts, baring his fangs.

Kurapika considers him. He should take the knife, plunge it directly through the creature’s heart, then tend to his wounds. Nearly, he does, but the vampire’s eyes go down to his hands and he tenses, lip curling back up, weight shifting back.

Well, if he fled, then Kurapika would certainly have to pursue. He could do it. But it would be unpleasant, and besides, it would be as simple to vanquish him inside the home as out. Simpler, even.

“And if I offered you bread and salt?”

A little flicker of hope sparks in the creature’s eyes. “And you’d be bound by it as well?”

“Of course. You would be a guest.”

“Then I will accept.” Then the formality falls from his tone and he points to the bat and says, “And can you put that somewhere else?”

“No,” Kurapika says, taking it with him as he turns and heads towards his kitchen. The words may be symbolic, but they have more power when backed with gesture. “I’ll be back.”

He half-expects the vampire to be gone when he returns, but the creature is still there, standing now, hands in his pockets. Kurapika looks him over critically. What kind of person turns burglar and blood-drinker in a suit jacket?

“Here,” he says, and offers… it’s a bagel, really. But still, it’s a form of bread. And there is salt on it. As well as sesame seeds. Poppy seeds. Many things.

The vampire takes it, nose wrinkling. “You know that has garlic on it, right?”

“I wasn’t thinking—”

“It’s fine, I guess. I wasn’t going to eat it anyway.”

Kurapika refrains from rolling his eyes, only heaves a sigh and makes what might be the worst decision of his adult life. “Well, there is bread between us, there is salt, so enter and be welcomed.”

The vampire brightens immediately and steps into his home. “Great,” he says, rubbing his hands. “Now show me where your gauze is.”

\----

The procedure is less awkward than it could be. Given the potential awkwardness, however, that is a useless standard of measurement.

Kurapika leads the vampire to the bathroom, and settles himself on the edge of the small bathtub and hikes up the right side of his shirt. The vampire pauses, turning from washing his hands, suit jacket off and shirtsleeves rolled up.

“You want to take that off, or?”

“No,” Kurapika says flatly, and the vampire shrugs, jaw already beginning to work and clench as he says, “Sure.”

Then he says, “Hoo boy,” and swallows audibly. “Sorry. Don’t get too weirded out.”

He is careful as he undoes the hasty bandage that Kurapika had applied, then settling a towel over Kurapika’s hip before rinsing out the wound with warm salt water. Kurapika hisses between his teeth, and the vampire just says, “Yeah, I bet,” voice sounded muffled, before his teeth grind shut and he swallows again.

It’s a long and ugly wound, stretching from the lowest parts of his ribs to the side of his waist, and the vampire looks at it critically, but says nothing else. Most likely this has something to do with the trail of saliva leaking from the corner of his mouth, which he wipes away on one sleeve.

He wipes away the rest of the blood, holding the rags like it’s a dare before dropping them hurriedly in the bathtub, then applies the antiseptic. Kurapika bites back a groan, fully aware that save for an everything bagel and a promise, he is at the creature’s mercy. But old laws are old laws, and he has his knives, so he holds still as the vampire rinses the wound with saltwater again, then begins his stitching.

“Figures you’d have a suture kit,” the vampire says conversationally, as though he weren’t literally drooling at the sight of Kurapika’s blood. He gulps, then says, a little clearer, “Anyone with a bat for home invaders is gonna be well-prepared.”

“Not paranoid?”

“I’m a vampire,” the creature reminds him, as though either of them could have forgotten. “I’m usually the worst of what could happen.”

“I thought you said there was worse than you out there.”

“There is,” the vampire says placidly, hands steady as he closes another loop. “I’m just the best of the worst. Usually.”

Kurapika snorts, then half-shuts his eyes. He’s sweating, jaw tight, holding himself still as a monster stitches him up in his bathroom.

“What’s your name?” he says abruptly, and the vampire pauses, looks up at him.

“Leorio,” he says, after a moment. Then, “Leorio Paladiknight.”

“Kurapika.”

“No family name, huh?”

“No family.”

That makes Leorio pause in his stitching again. “That’s a shame,” he says quietly.

“It is.”

Leorio finishes the sutures in silence, then looks over his work. “All done,” he says, then straightens abruptly. “Phew!”

He turns away to wash his hands, and Kurapika lets his shirt drop back into place.

“Ah ah,” Leorio warns him, apparently catching the motion from the corner of his eye. “That’s damp and gross now. Go change into something dry, and make sure to keep the stitches dry for the next two weeks.”

Kurapika eyes him warily, then slowly exits the bathroom to do as he’s told. Leorio is still there when he returns, is fussing with his hair by touch.

“To your right,” Kurapika says, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe, and the vampire smooths it down.

“Thanks. Though it is kind of your fault, for making me fall down all those stairs.”

“You broke into my home.”

“It’s not breaking if the door was open,” Leorio retorts, in what sounds like it will become a familiar argument. “Anyway, you’re not going to try and stake me now, right?”

Kurapika shakes his head. “The laws of hospitality go both ways. It would be shameful on my part. Especially after this.”

“Well,” Leorio says, hands in his pockets, looking at him.

“Well,” Kurapika replies, arms folded as he keeps his back to the doorframe.

“So I’ll… see you around?”

“You are contractually always welcome here,” Kurapika says.

Leorio grins at him, only slightly strained. “You sure know how to make a guy feel right at home.”

“Oh yes,” Kurapika says, nearly laughing. “Bring you to my bathroom and show you my first aid supplies. Very homey.”

“Hey, you’d be surprised.”

“I’ll show you out,” Kurapika says, heaving himself up.

At the front door, Leorio hesitates again, then says, “Thanks. For not, you know.” He makes a stabbing motion.

“And thank you,” Kurapika says, then touches his side. “For this. It was good to meet you, Leorio Paladiknight.”

“You know, friends just call me Leorio.”

Kurapika smiles. Imagine that. A vampire with friends. “Goodnight.”

“I’ll see you around.”

Kurapika shuts the door behind him, locks it, then checks over the rest of his home, locking and securing the windows, making certain all things are accounted for. Then he slips his brace of knives back beneath his pillow and falls into bed, to sleep deeper than he has in a long while.

A strange night, to be sure.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It persisteth.
> 
> AKA the one where Kurapika trees Leorio for fun ~~and profit.~~

“You’re a what,” Leorio says in alarm, and Kurapika manages the first syllable of a word before his jaw lengthens, cutting him off instead on a mournful howl. His bones continue to snap and something tears, and then the change is complete.

“Oh,” Leorio says, looking down at him from a much greater height than usual. “Oh wow.”

Kurapika, ears slightly back, looks back up at him, and heaves a sigh before settling onto his front paws, tail thumping twice against the floor.

“Haha, oh wow,” Leorio says again, beginning to grin. “This is adorable.”

\----

Leorio has been coming by on some nights. Not with any recognizable pattern, but enough to become a familiar presence. A light turned on as Kurapika returns home from a walk. A used mug. A mysteriously obtained pizza left on the counter. And occasionally, some first aid.

“I don’t know what you do to get banged up like this all the time,” Leorio says one night, frowning down at a dark bruise. “Also, I can’t put my finger on it, but you heal fucking weird. Are all humans like this, or is this just a you thing? Have you made a deal with a devil or something? Are you, what do they call’em. Are you an X-Men?”

“I am not an X-Man,” Kurapika says firmly. “And the rest is prying. It simply is what it is.”

“Well, just don’t bash it into anything again,” Leorio says, smearing something spicy-smelling across the bruise. “Should heal up fast.”

The next time, he knocks three times at the front door, then slides himself in as though he belonged there.

“Hey,” he calls. “I have normal human food for you.”

“As long as it’s not another custom smoothie, I accept,” Kurapika says from the living room, where he is replacing a lightbulb. The last one had been a confusing mishmosh of what Leorio had enthusiastically called ‘superfoods,’ and hadn’t had any redeeming qualities in taste whatsoever.

“Nah, it’s a uh. Hamburger or something. Classmate got it for me, said she never sees me eat.”

“And still no one’s caught on.”

“Spend a lot of time indoors, and people see what they wanna see.” Leorio shrugs. “Anyway, I’ll be sick if I eat this, so can you just take it already?”

It’s even a reasonably good hamburger.

So of course he comes barging in a bare five minutes to moonrise on a harvest moon, excitedly waving two small pieces of paper. “Hey, Peeks! Guess who won a raffle for movie tickets! Wanna go?”

Kurapika, half-undressed in the living room, stares at him in dismay, manages, “No,” before something crackles ominously in his jaw.

Leorio quickly averts his eyes. “Geez, sorry if I interrupted anything, but you should lock your door—”

Kurapika snarls wordlessly at him, then flees for the nearest room with a locking door: the bathroom.

Regrettably, Leorio follows him, concerned now. “You sick, buddy?”

“No,” he manages again, but it turns strange partway through, vocal chords changing at the most inconvenient of times. He nearly manages to slam the door shut, but Leorio simply sticks an elbow in and barges through, unfazed by the crack of his joint, since it will heal in a moment anyway. Stupid vampire.

“Listen, if you’re sick you should tell me—”

“Not— sick—” Kurapika huffs out, dismayed. The next word turns into a yip despite his best efforts, and he growls to himself, frustrated. “I am—”

“What, you’re what?”

And then the change truly takes hold, and Kurapika is stretched out and compacted all at once, hands thickening to paws, face pushing into a snout as he falls on all fours, skin prickling as fur pushes through. It aches, but distantly, nervous system rearranging as well, and when it is complete, he glowers up at Leorio, then heaves a sigh and settles onto the bathroom room.

“A werewolf,” Leorio says finally, still staring down at him. He crouches, which is considerate of him. Then he holds out a hand and says, “Shake.”

Kurapika snaps at him, feeling the growl deep in his chest, and Leorio yanks his hand away laughing. “Okay, okay, but it was worth it. Gold, huh? Isn’t that a weird color for a wolf.”

Kurapika blinks at him, rocks his head from side to side. Apparently it is, but it is hardly something he concerns himself with.

“You’re like a toasted marshmallow,” Leorio says, propping his chin in one hand. Kurapika snarls at him again. “Just like an extra big Shiba Inu on the internets.”

Kurapika is on his feet again, barks once, sharply, all his teeth showing.

Leorio is still grinning at him foolishly. “You’re just a walking me-me.”

That is simply too much to stand. Kurapika barks again, lunges to bowl him over, but Leorio yelps and is on his feet already, backpedaling out the door, and the temptation is irresistible.

He runs when Kurapika bounds after him, two-footed and clumsy, and Kurapika is faster, steadier, stronger, fueled by the thrill of the hunt. He outpaces Leorio easily, but just when he is about to spring, Leorio puts on an extra burst of speed and scrambles up the nearest tree.

Kurapika leaps regardless, only makes it as far as the lowest branch. Coming back to earth, he whines, then stands on his hindlegs to scratch at the bark.

“Absolutely not,” Leorio says from above him, clinging to the trunk. “Nooo thank you.”

Kurapika whines again, scratching harder now, before coming back to all fours and considering. Then he hurls his weight against the tree as Leorio yelps and scrambles higher. Kurapika sits back and pants up at him, tongue lolling out of his mouth.

“Quit laughing at me! You’re just waiting for me to get down there so you can like, eat me or something! How come you never said you’re a werewolf? That’s like cheating! You cheated! Not cool!”

Kurapika wrinkles his snout. That hardly sounds reasonable. Leorio was trespassing on his territory, and should’ve known the signs. If he just didn’t want to acknowledge them, well, that’s his business.

“Aren’t you all like, territorial? How come you didn’t run me off?”

Kurapika huffs at him. It wasn’t for initial lack of trying.

“Yeah, well. Hff hah to you, too, you dick.” He yelps when Kurapika makes a leap for his dangling foot, despite Kurapika’s teeth snapping shut a full two feet below the toes.

When he draws his foot up, Kurapika hurls himself against the tree again, and Leorio yelps, then throws a pinecone at him. He misses, and Kurapika sits down where he is to stare up at him, still panting.

"You're seriously the worst," Leorio informs him, and throws another pinecone.

By the time the moon is beginning to set, Leorio has thrown several more pinecones as well as one of his shoes, which Kurapika had promptly buried. The change comes swiftly, and Leorio hesitantly descends, either from concern, or the mistaken assumption that this will be safer for him than when Kurapika was a wolf.

As soon as he lands, Leorio immediately claps one hand over his eyes. "Seriously, put some clothes on."

"It's pronounced 'meme,'" Kurapika informs him, accepts the suit jacket when Leorio holds it out to him, then cocks his head.

At his silence, Leorio hesitates, then carefully peers out at Kurapika through a gap in his fingers.

Kurapika continues frowning back at him, until, exasperated, Leorio says, “What? You’re weirding me out here.”

Slowly, Kurapika pulls first one arm, then the other through the jacket, then says, ”Can't you fly?"


	3. Chapter 3

“Get out,” Kurapika says sharply, and it’s like a giant hand absolutely bitch-slaps him right through the kitchen window.

It doesn’t _hurt,_ because _vampire, duh,_ but it’s extremely fucking rude, and now Leorio has glass down his collar, and a dozen small cuts that have to be healed up. Guy probably won’t even let him have a little sip to help close the wounds. Fucking hell.

“Come on,” Leorio shouts back at him, flies for the window, only to bounce directly off the empty space where the glass panes used to be. With the invitation rescinded (hospitable promise of the everything bagel with its little chunks of sea salt aside), and the inside of Kurapika’s house may as well be on the moon.

Kurapika closes the curtain. His silhouette moves out of the room, and then he turns off the light.

Leorio floats around the house towards the stairs, where it looks like Kurapika’s heading up towards his room. He drifts closer, then hammers on the glass. It stings a little, but as long as he’s not actively trying to get in, it doesn’t push him back.

“Hey! _Hey!”_ he yells, and if there’s a time to be thankful Kurapika lives by himself in the middle of absolutely nowhere, this is it. He’s too mad, though, because who _banishes_ a guy in the middle of an argument? Jerks, that’s who! “Hey, c’mere, you dick!”

Kurapika’s face appears in the window, sudden enough to make Leorio tumble backwards onto thin air, and then that curtain gets yanked shut too. Righting himself, Leorio grumbles. It's the window right by the stairs, so he's heading up.

He concentrates, then shoots upwards too suddenly, too fast, frantically tries to catch at a windowsill to keep from flying off past Kurapika’s roof. He hits his head on an overhang, swears by reflex, even after all these years, then digs his nails in and slowly lowers himself down to the nearest window.

It’s not a big house, he figures as he knocks, easy at first, then harder when there’s no response. Kurapika has to hear him somewhere.

“Hey! Hey, stupid!” he calls for good measure, then concentrates on growing out his nails sharp. He scratches at the window. “Hey, idiot with the bad taste!”

Nothing. He floats over to the next window, starts all over again. Knock knock knock. Scratch scratch scratch. “Hey, elitist prick! What do you have to say for yourself!”

The window is yanked open and Kurapika hisses, “I said what I said,” before slamming it shut again.

Furious, Leorio starts knocking harder. “Listen, you jumped-up jackass, I swear I am going to make you eat those words! You’re just a pocket-sized asshole with a super-size superiority complex, you hear me! Get out here and face me like a wolfman!”

This time, Kurapika apparently decides to ignore him. Grumbling, Leorio descends back to the ground floor, hunting around for something that he can’t ignore. No large enough rocks, and he doesn’t feel like collecting the pebbles he’d need to be really obnoxious.

Oh, there! The basketball he got when he tried to convince Kurapika to actually act like a normal human being. He nabs it, then floats back up, no mishaps this time.

“Hey, dumbotron!” he yells, then hurls the basketball at the window.

It bounces back, clocking him square in the face and sending him hurtling back down to the dirt.

He lands hard, maybe breaks his neck a little, but it’s not really a problem. It tickles a little as it gets realigned, and he doesn’t feel like moving quite yet. Honestly, the embarrassment stings way more.

The front door opens and Kurapika comes bolting out, drops a slice of bread and a saltshaker on him, and says, “Come inside,” as fast as a human mouth can before grabbing Leorio and starting to haul him in.

This is gonna be a great chance to get him good. Leorio stays limp, eyes shutting, letting his tongue loll for a little extra effect. He’s gonna have to talk with Kurapika about his first responder tactics, though; this dragging is not doing it for him.

“Leorio?” Kurapika says, and that sounds like genuine worry. Then hands are patting him over, nearly reaching for a pulse point before he apparently realizes how ridiculous that is, and instead starting to search over his torso for any abnormalities. Okay, that gets him some points.

Leorio cracks an eyelid open, and Kurapika stops immediately.

“Leorio? Are you all right? Say something.”

Leorio wheezes a little, starts to mouthe something, and Kurapika bends obligingly closer.

“What?”

Leorio fakes a cough, then tries again, and Kurapika leans closer still. His concern would be touching, but he’s still kind of a jerk.

“Leorio?” he says worriedly again from like two inches away, and Leorio squints at him, then breathes, _“Dubs are better and more accessible than subs.”_

Totally worth it for how Kurapika draws back like he’s been scalded, face going beet-red.

“I was _worried_ about you!” Kurapika snaps, yanking him upright and shoving him back towards the door, bread slice and salt shaker dropping to the floor.

Leorio is laughing at him, digging in his heels. “Yeah, and you shouldn’t have been! You should’ve seen your face—”

“As someone who just broke his own neck with a basketball, you should be a little more circumspect! Subtitles maintain the integrity of the original audio, and make it easier to watch things in noisy environments!”

“It’s way more fun to see how other voice actors interpret the character!” Leorio shoots back. “Get over yourself!”

Kurapika pushes him out the door and slams it shut behind him. Little guy’s stronger than he looks; must be the werewolf thing. But he didn’t say he wasn’t welcome…

Leorio goes to hunt down the basketball, then circles around to the front door again, ball tucked beneath one elbow. The night’s still young and besides, it’s nice to have a friend.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor content warning at end of work

It begins simply, as many complications do. Leorio has been injured past his usual capacity to heal, is far away from his blood caches, and additionally, is being a stubborn ass.

“I could easily retrieve some for you.”

“No. Can’t trust goblins, they gang up on you.” Leorio groans, a more pronounced ashen tone to his skin. “Little sneaks. And I can’t go alone, because I think they were trying to eat me.”

“That’s disgusting,” Kurapika says, frowning as he notes it to himself. It’s not typical goblin behavior either, but Leorio is distraught enough as is. Or at least, complaining a great deal more than usual.

“Maybe during the day? I can… I can sleep in your broom closet or something. Ugh, no, if you get caught, there’ll be way too many questions, and it’s hard for you to get in anyway. I’ll think of something.” His eyelids are drooping shut. “Sorry for the mess.”

He tilts sideways onto the arm of Kurapika’s couch again, mouth dropping slightly open. It’s not quite enough to catch a glimpse of his fangs, but easy enough to imagine them there. Another option is available, but Leorio hasn't asked, and it would be unwise to offer...

Still, Leorio has never offered him harm, whether due to respect for the laws of hospitality or simply for the truce they've settled comfortably into. And he is something like a friend. He won't expire like this, but he will suffer, as will his academic performance. 

And it would be a one-time thing. Of course. Just one instance of Leorio leaning in close, lips settling against Kurapika's skin, perhaps on his neck or inner wrist. Then the slight pinch of his fangs, the pressure of his mouth and tongue coaxing out more blood. Then the withdraw, fangs sliding out, possibly with him lapping up the excess.

It would be a friendly gesture only. 

Kurapika sends a heartfelt apology to every single one of his ancestors, then takes a deep breath and says, "There's another way I could assist."

"My guy, there's no deer around for miles and also no, don't mess with a pack of goblins."

He could most certainly handle a pack of goblins, but that is neither here nor there.

"No," Kurapika says slowly. "I mean, I could materially assist with your... deficiency."

Leorio squints sideways at him, face still pressed into the armrest of the couch. "Like. Iron pills or something?"

"No, I--" He stops himself, takes another deep breath through his nose, then says, "I mean I would allow you to have some of my blood."

"No way," Leorio says immediately, but a spark has lit in his eyes. He shivers, then clamps his jaw shut.

"Willingly and freely given. I trust you know how to control yourself?"

"No, seriously, I couldn't put you up to that."

"Just enough to heal yourself. Then you can go find what you've stored and fully replenish yourself then."

"I mean," Leorio starts, then trails off. His jaw works, and slowly, he levers himself upright. "You really sure you're up for this?"

"I'm sure."

"Really, really sure?"

"Yes!" Kurapika says, sharper than he intended. 

"Okay then," Leorio says, then slumps off the couch. "Hang on, let me go my kit."

Well, he is a medical student... it stands to reason he would be ready to bandage his victims.

Leorio returns with the battered briefcase he dragged in with him, then drops it on the coffee table and flops back down on the couch, seated upright this time.

"C'mere," he says, then pats the spot next to him, nearly misses. "It'll be easier."

Obligingly, Kurapika paces over and drops to sit beside him, fidgets with his collar as Leorio goes hunting for something in the contents of his briefcase.

"Aha!" Leorio says, holding up a little square packet. He tears it open and pulls out... an alcohol wipe. Which stands to reason, Kurapika supposes. Hygiene and all.

"Here, roll up your sleeve. No, all the way up.”

So it’ll be the wrist, then. As Leorio takes hold of his hand and lifts, Kurapika shuts his eyes and grits his teeth. It’s one thing to offer, but the doing is another thing entirely. The alcohol wipe is a cool brush against his inner elbow, which is certainly a location, but he assumes Leorio knows what he is doing. Something ties just above his elbow, which at least is familiar in a blood-drawing process. He holds his breath and wonders if Leorio’s lips will be soft.

Then Leorio says, “Okay, the needle might pinch a little.”

Kurapika opens his eyes immediately and finds Leorio squinting at the crook of his elbow, needle in one hand hooked up to an IV leading into a small plastic sack. 

“What are you—”

“Oh, shoot. Sorry, not okay? I knew I should’ve done a triple-check—”

“No, I mean, is this usually how—”

“I don’t just go around _eating_ people,” Leorio says, managing to sound both woozy and offended. “Come on. It’s so wasteful. All that blood dribbling everywhere. Yeugh.”

He seems a bit unsteady.

Kurapika eyes him warily. “Are you sure you’re up for it?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve done this like a million times. Anyway, still cool?”

“Certainly.”

“Cool. In three, two, one.”

As promised, the needle stings a bit, and once the blood starts flowing, Leorio industriously rummages in his briefcase once more and carefully deposits a stress ball into Kurapika’s hand. “Here, remember to squeeze. It’ll only be a couple minutes, I’ll do a little less than a blood donation. You got any snacks in your kitchen?”

“Crackers.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun.”

“If you get them now and fall over, I’m not coming to get you,” Kurapika warns him, squeezing the ball.

“Yeah, no, I’ll wait.”

It only is a few minutes until Leorio says, “Okay, done,” slipping out the needle and firmly pressing a small square of gauze down to stop the bleeding. He is salivating again, a slightly frantic look in his eyes, but he applies a bandaid and carefully packs everything away, then yanks the IV out of the bloodbag and starts to suck.

“Disgusting,” Kurapika says, watching him do it, and Leorio makes a rude gesture.

Then he gives an exaggerated gasp, and says, “That hits the spot,” before heaving himself up off the couch and wandering into the kitchen. His color is better already, movements more assured. Kurapika firmly reminds himself that this was the end goal. Anything else was a simple flight of fancy, and nothing more.

The refrigerator door opens. “You want something with your crackers? Is that egg hardboiled? You have like four of them.”

“No, thank you,” Kurapika says, slowly coming to a stand and carefully following after as he inspects his elbow. He’ll be a little bruised tomorrow, but—he supposes as Leorio immediately shuts the fridge and comes to steer him back to the couch—it will have been worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor content warning for needles
> 
> I feel like I've only got a couple more of these in me, but I hope everyone's been enjoying so far! I've sure been having fun lmao. Anyway, stay inside as much as you can, wear a mask, etc. etc., be kind to yourself and remember to drink ~~blood~~ water


End file.
